


of nightmares and dreamscapes

by my_unlikely_hero



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst Medium Roast, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 15:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16042949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_unlikely_hero/pseuds/my_unlikely_hero
Summary: written as a prompt request. aaron has a nightmare, but matt is there to comfort him.





	of nightmares and dreamscapes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art Hoe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713505) by [my_unlikely_hero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_unlikely_hero/pseuds/my_unlikely_hero). 



> based on [Art Hoe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713505/chapters/34004393) by [my_unlikely_hero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_unlikely_hero/pseuds/my_unlikely_hero) for a [prompt request](https://shyglittercreature.tumblr.com/post/178268165633/can-i-get-a-tall-caramel-macchiato-with-an-extra#notes) on [my tumblr](https://shyglittercreature.tumblr.com/)

Aaron doesn’t understand why the barista is yelling at him. He can’t really understand the words, but he can understand her angry gestures and pointing. Looking at the cup in his hand, he guesses he grabbed the wrong one. It’s mortifying enough without the little barista screaming at him for it, but even after he puts the drink back on the counter and apologizes, she still won’t stop screaming. He turns to find Matt to complain, but where he was at Aaron’s side just a moment ago, now he’s vanished.

Aaron turns back to the barista, his mouth open and ready to snap at her about her utter lack of customer service skills, but she’s gone. In her place, his mother is there. His mouth drops open in surprise and, admittedly, a little bit of terror. Tilda walks around the edge of the counter and grabs the front of Aaron’s shirt.

“How could you, Aaron?” she demands, her breath putrid and rotten, her teeth black and crumbling. “Why did you do that?”

“What did I do?” he asks, grasping at her bony wrist and trying to shake her loose. It doesn’t work. She shouldn’t be so strong, but she  _ is _ and it isn’t fair. He can feel the panic building in his chest, the way his chest tightens so painfully and breathing is so damn painful. “Mom, what did I do wrong? I’m sorry! Sorry!”

“You don’t even know what you’re sorry for!” she screams at him, and shakes him by his shirt. One of her hands lifts high in the air, and just as she’s making the swing, Aaron understands she’s going to hit him. He thought he’d never have to feel that pain again, but no. And when her open palm connects with his cheek, his head snaps to the side a little too hard. He sees the other patrons in the cafe all looking at the scene so curiously, like they’re watching a play or a tv show, and it pisses Aaron off that they’ll never intervene, never step in to do anything to help. Matt had promised… but Matt’s gone, and he can’t stop this.

Aaron falls to the floor and curls around himself, protecting his head with his arms as more blows rain down on his back and sides and legs and arms. He begs, again and again, for her to stop, to please, please stop. She never listens. She never had before, either. 

“Aaron!” That’s Matt’s voice. Aaron blinks in confusion, then gasps painfully as he jerks out of the little ball he’s curled himself into. The little night light plugged into the wall on Aaron’s side of the bed illuminates his and Matt’s bedroom just enough to tell Aaron where he is. He shudders on his exhale and feels Matt’s big had slide gently up his spine between his shoulder blades, then down once more. Aaron carefully matches his breathing to the slow strokes as he stares at the little planets and stars glowing across the wall from the night light. 

“Nightmare, huh?” Matt asks. Aaron only nods. “Wanna talk about it?” 

“It was Mom again,” Aaron says quietly, rolling over to face Matt. He stares at Matt’s face for a long time, seeing concern in the lines and shadows. “You were there, but then you weren't, and...all I could think about was your promise.”

Matt closes his eyes for a brief moment, then slides across the bed to curl around Aaron, holding him tight against his chest. “She's dead, baby, she can't hurt you anymore.” His whisper is gentle, but it's sad and full of pain. “And I swear I will never let anyone hurt you like that. Never again.” 

“Don't make promises you can't keep,” Aaron mutters. His face is hidden against Matt's chest, but he's certain Matt can still hear him. “You can't be with me all the time.” 

Matt slides one hand from the middle of Aaron's back to his shoulder, then down his arm. He stops when he reaches Aaron's forearm and brushes his fingers over the scars hidden amongst the brightly colored tattoos. They're both silent for a long time, Aaron thinking of why he attempted suicide in the first place, of why he felt so awful, so alone, back when his mother died - back when Andrew killed her. He's a little bitter because he bets Matt is thinking of how he really can't be around Aaron all day, every day. He can't protect Aaron from himself, either.

“There's no one who wants to hurt you like that,” Matt says slowly. He shifts back some to look Aaron in the eyes. Aaron stares at Matt's big brown eyes and hates how sympathetic he looks, how honest and open he is, how truthful and certain he sounds. It isn't fair. “Your mom might have done a lot of bad, and you...you've never told me all of it, and you don't have to, but baby, I swear, I will defend you to the end of time.”

Aaron doesn't quite know what to say to that. His mom had been awful. He realizes that now, thanks to therapy with Bee and all these years without her and a couple years of decent antidepressants. It's still hard to talk about it, though, to admit it out loud. It's as if he makes the abuse real when he speaks the truth. As long as he keeps it to himself, as long as no one knows, then it isn't real and doesn't matter. He knows, logically, that that isn't true, but he isn't quite able to make his rational brain and his emotional brain meet in the middle. Not where his mother is concerned. Yet Matt might deserve some of the truth. 

“I almost never knew why she was hitting me,” Aaron tells him. Matt tenses a little, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't try to cut Aaron off or offer empty platitudes. “I think, sometimes, she just needed an outlet, someone to take everything out on. And that was me. I was a convenient target, and I never told anyone the truth. I lied for her, to protect her. She...she was my  _ mom _ .”

“And you loved her,” Matt says with a short, understanding nod. Aaron shrugs. That's the truth of it, essentially, but there's more. He didn't want to go anywhere else, either. He didn't want to wind up living with Uncle Luther and Aunt Maria or wind up in foster care. His mom might have beaten him, but he had some good memories of her, too. “It's okay to still love her.” Matt's words take Aaron by surprise. 

“Even though she got me hooked on opiates and coke?” Aaron snaps. “Even though she beat me and let her boyfriends beat me, too? Or what about the one boyfriend that liked to touch me, huh? You think it's okay for me to love her even though she let all that happen and didn't do a damn thing to stop it?”

Matt nods. “Yeah, babe, it's okay. She was your mom, and you're gonna love her no matter what. It's okay to be angry with her, too. Be mad, but don't let it consume you. She can't hurt you anymore. No one can, unless you let them. You know how to fight back, now. You know it's okay to say ‘no’ and walk away. Those things…” Matt takes a deep breath and sighs as he exhales. “Those things happened a long time ago, but you can still be mad that they happened. Just...don't live your life angry and bitter. I think...I think you're happier now, right?”

The question throws Aaron off. He has to stop for a moment and force his mind to realign so process the question. His answer doesn't quite surprise him, but he thinks it should for some reason. “Yeah, I am.” Matt smiles a little and brings his hand up to Aaron's cheek slowly, then strokes his thumb over the soft, slightly stubbly skin. “You make me happier.” The soft, quiet admission was one Aaron wasn't quite prepared to say aloud, but he can't take it back now. He's not sure he wants to.

“Then I'm doing my job,” Matt says cheerfully. He grins widely and shuffles forward again to kiss Aaron gently. “Want me to make that tea you like to help you get back to sleep?”

“Yeah,” Aaron says softly. Matt smiles again and pulls away to climb out of bed. Aaron watches him go, then lifts one arm in the air. He traces the scar that runs down the center of his forearm from wrist to elbow, neatly hidden amongst the tattoos and only noticeable in a certain light or by feeling for it. 

Things are better now. His rational brain tells him there will be downswings, but his life is pretty good the way it is. It will continue to get better, too. He just has to make it happen. He can do that. The emotional brain screams that it's all a trick, that things are never as good as they seem, that something will happen and his happy little world will come crashing down around him. But he rationalizes that with, well, then he'll just have to start over. He's used to that, after all. And he'll have Matt by his side, probably. After all their ups and downs, he doesn't think Matt will leave, not anytime soon, maybe not ever. Aaron contemplates that singular thought until Matt returns with the hot mug of tea, and Aaron thanks him with a kiss. 

He tells his emotional brain to just shut the fuck up already and leave him alone. He wants to enjoy his happiness. And maybe, one day, he can make it permanent.


End file.
